―Peter Shaffer
The primitive world, I muse, as I sit before the fire, just as ancient man sat before his fire, mistaking shadows for real things.
Plato described man's predicament as being tied down to false assumptions and used the analogy of a cave.
Man yearns to be free but is always enslaved to wrong beliefs. Plato saw Man tied down in a cave, his head held at a fixed angle, a fire behind him, so all he knows of reality is shadows on a cave wall.
Well, if that's the human condition, then I'm a fine example, because with all my state of the art technology doing its job sensing and recording, I'm still apprehensive hearing things go bump in the night.
Gizmo, the kitten I'm fostering, is fast asleep beside me, oblivious of creaking and thumping noises―he simply presses his body into my warmth and relies on me to protect him. I envy such faith.
Me? I feel more like Matthew Arnold on a darkling plain surrounded by confused alarms of struggle and flight.
Yep, I'm no fighter and thousands of dollars of home security devices are powerless to detect spirits much less grab hold of ectoplasm to register and record it...
And besides, if it did, would it make a difference? I don't think so.
Another nightly divagation leads me back to my familiar shaman, Martin Wallace, my Jungian therapist.
"Jung had quite a bit to say about the paranormal, Ethan, and he even saw a few ghosts of his own."
"Is that meant to reassure me?" I smirk, "because if it is, it doesn't quite cut it―any more than my state of the art security system."
"No doubt," he chuckles, "that's the problem with ghosts―they can't catch hold of things and we can't catch hold of them."
"So what's the answer―to remain oppressed?"
"No, definitely not. The answer to fear of the night is to walk in your own light. I told you as much at our last session. The monsters that oppress us are projections of our own shadow self. The sinister figures that terrorize us can be parts of our shadow that we reject, but when you come to terms with these traits, you will no longer feel you're fighting monsters."
"So, that's a sophisticated way of saying I'm afraid of my own shadow."
"That's very witty Ethan, but wrong. I'm saying you have to face your own fears―no one can do that for you. If this is a paranormal occurrence, it makes no difference―you have power over your own soul. You need to take back the ground you've given. You've taken steps to physically protect against intruders, now take control over the few cubic centimeters inside your own skull."
"You think it's that easy?" I parried.
"No, I know it's hard and most people flee and leave it undone, but you're not like that. You're one of the few authentic people I know. You admit your fears and weaknesses―which is good, but you also need to recognize your inner strength. Hell, you came through a horrendous accident where your friend died and overcame night terrors and learned to carry on. You ran a successful business. You did it before, you can do it again."
Maybe that was the Jungian version of the ye olde pep talk, but I left Martin Wallace feeling more hopeful than I felt in weeks―more determined than when this whole sordid business began.
Wallace was right―I was punching below my weight―allowing Gwen James to dominate me and embarrassing as it was to admit, I was letting her sycophant, Trish Simpson, kick sand in my face.
I had a plan to take back control of my life, but I'd need some help from an unlikely source and need them to take pity on my plight.
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